


a strategy of avoidance

by edibleflowers



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crushes, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9065203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: Gods above, Ignis thinks to himself, when did I become such an idiot?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't perfect, but I'm calling it done anyway. There's a fair bit of character exploration since I'm still learning these guys' voices; I just hope it works overall. Sorry to say there's no smut in this one! Maybe next time. =P
> 
> Edited to fix the tense. WTF, brain.

The brief skirmish is done. Panting, Ignis pushes himself upright, nodding briefly to Gladio's querying look: he's fine, no damage done. Across the field, he sees Prompto reaching for Noctis's hand to help the prince to his feet. The two are laughing, delighted at an easy victory. While Gladio turns to examine the terrain for any useful items that might have fallen during battle, Ignis reaches for a handkerchief and removes his glasses to clean them. It's only an excuse, but it lets him close his eyes so he doesn't have to see.

 _Gods above,_ he thinks to himself, _when did I become such an idiot?_

There's no easy answer to that, but it hardly matters; he doesn't have the time to think about it anyway, since Noctis is already waving them on. They're supposed to be hunting down frogs, of all things, for a scientist acquaintance of Gladio's. As inane as the task seems, Ignis welcomes it; not only will it help forward learning, but it might distract him as well.

* * *

He finds himself preparing a meal he knows Noctis favors, that evening at camp, and scowls at himself even as he sears meat on the grill.

"Need a hand?" Prompto bounces up next to him, peering at the prep table. "I can cut something up for ya."

"Quite all right," Ignis says. Prompto shrugs, takes a picture -- Ignis doesn't bother smiling for the photo, as Prompto has said he prefers his subjects to be natural -- and spins off again. 

"Smells good!" he calls as he goes. A moment later he hears Noctis grunt as Prompto tackles him. He hunches his shoulders and tries to focus on the food.

* * *

"What's up with you?" Gladio asks later, when they're both ensconced in the tent they normally share. One lantern illuminates the space between their beds; Gladio's already settled in his, boots lined up at the far end and a warm blanket covering him. Ignis takes a little longer, washing his face as best he can, cleaning his glasses before settling them on the folding table.

"Why would anything be up with me?" Ignis says in return. He sits on the bed, scratching fingers through his hair: he feels grimy, wants a shower quite badly. Perhaps tomorrow he can nudge them in the direction of a hotel of some kind. Even a caravan would do. 

"You're jumpier than normal." Rolling to his back, Gladio looks up at the canvas overhead. "Don't usually let yourself get knocked down during a fight like that."

Even the word _knocked_ makes Ignis close his eyes for a moment, trying not to react to the sound, the same as their familiar nickname for Noctis. "The voretooth caught me off guard. Won't happen again."

Gladio grunts. "Sure it ain't something else?"

Ignis reaches over to dim the lantern; then, sliding his shoes off, lays down and pulls the blanket over himself. "I can't imagine what you're talking about," he says. The lie comes easier in the darkness.

"Uh-huh." Gladio snorts. "Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

Ignis doesn't know how long he's had these ridiculous feelings for Noctis. He does, however, know exactly how unseemly it is. He's a servant of the Crown, a royal retainer; and while he may technically hold a title, it's to a dead house of a land now wholly swallowed by the Empire. Not only that, he's also four years older than Noctis. That may not matter as much as the rest, but he's known Noctis since the prince was practically an infant. He can't simply put it aside.

For a while, at least, he was able to credit it to loyalty to his prince. He started baking only to try and cheer Noctis up, after all; after a time the challenge to replicate the Tenebraean delicacy took on its own charm, even if the vain attempts to improve the rest of the prince's diet didn't. It wasn't until one of his attempts at the sweet finally came close -- Noctis must have been seventeen or so, close to finishing high school -- that Ignis was forced to face his feelings.

He'd happened on a special type of citrus curd, he remembers, made from fruit found in Tenebrae. Though the fruit had been cultured and grown in orchards for centuries, this was made from a wild variety, picked at the peak of ripeness in the hills outside Gralea. Knowing Lady Lunafreya would only have had the finest chefs at her service, Ignis thought perhaps the key was the careful selection of ingredients.

At Noctis's apartment in the city, he'd offered the sweets after another meal in which Noctis carefully picked out every bit of vegetable matter. Unsurprisingly, Noctis had reached at once for one of the pastries, examining it with a critical eye as if the sweet sugar glazing could reveal some secret, and then bit in.

Ignis knew at once that he still hadn't mastered the recipe. Noctis's eyes closed as he savored the sweet bite; a line developed between his eyebrows, and he chewed thoughtfully before swallowing.

"Not quite there yet," Ignis said.

"No, but there's something really good about this one," Noctis said, and eagerly took another huge bite, this time grinning around the mouthful. The look of satisfaction on his face made Ignis swallow hard and turn away, pretending to wipe at an already-clean spot on the counter.

Why had it taken him so long to realize just why he wanted to please Noctis so? How could he be such a fool? Moreover, what sort of idiot would fall in love with a prince who would no doubt, one day soon, be betrothed and married to further the royal bloodline--

"Hey, did you make any more?" Noctis asked, voice only slightly muffled by the final piece of the pastry he'd stuffed into his mouth. Swallowing hard, Ignis turned back to hand over the plate with the rest.

* * *

_Idiot_ , he tells himself again, the next morning, when Noctis declares he wants to drive for a change. The road to Lestallum is fairly direct; Ignis sees no reason to deny Noctis the opportunity, even though it means Prompto will be in the passenger seat beside him for the duration.

Gladio gives him a cuff on the shoulder as he settles behind the driver's seat, where Noctis usually sits. "Nothing, huh?" he says; thankfully, Noctis is too preoccupied with shifting the seat up and adjusting the mirror to notice. 

Ignis gives Gladio only the briefest of glares before reaching for his seatbelt. 

"Nothing at all," he says, his voice as calm as ever.

* * *

The bustle of Lestallum, while nothing compared to the Crown City, is still a welcome change from the rough backcountry of Leide as far as Ignis is concerned. While Prompto declares he wants to go explore, and Gladio is clearly preoccupied with catching up with his beloved little sister, Ignis decides he'll go over to the market, a couple of blocks from their hotel, and see what new supplies he can procure. They're running low on some of the dried staples after several nights of camping in a row; besides, he might find something new and interesting for a recipe.

"Oh, can I come?" Noctis asks, when he states his intentions to the others in the hotel room.

Ignis blinks, then shrugs. "I don't see why not, though I doubt you'll find it very interesting."

"Hey, I like to cook sometimes." Noctis bristles a little; Ignis can't help a brief, fond smile.

"Very well, then, as it pleases Your Highness."

Everything is fine, Ignis told himself: it's all just fine. He can spend time around Noctis without it being weird. He's been dealing with this _whatever-it-is_ for years now -- although, admittedly, he's never spent this much time in Noctis's company until very recently. That no doubt is compounding the problem. He'll just keep repeating his mantra of how incredibly improper his feelings are, along with the knowledge that Noctis still intends to find (and presumably marry) Lunafreya, until he believes it.

Lestallum's market district stretches across a wide span between buildings, chock-full of both temporary and permanent vendors' booths, panels of cloth draped over them to block out the worst of the noon sunlight. The scents of a variety of spices and foods fill Ignis's senses before they even reached the main drag of the market, making him smile in advance and hurry forward a little. He has to angle between other shoppers; Iris hadn't been joking when she spoke of how busy the market always is. Some people move quickly through the crowded lanes between booths, while others take their time, lingering and browsing. In addition to food sellers, Ignis sees food carts set up at one end of the district. A one-two punch, he thinks; the cart owners probably buy their ingredients fresh from the market, so that the smells of cooking food will entice in shoppers who'll then be persuaded to purchase both the dishes and the means to make more. Clever indeed.

"Hey, I'm gonna check that out," Noctis says, with a brief press of a palm to Ignis's shoulderblade. Ignis glances over, sees a booth laden with vases, plates, and a variety of stoneware, as well as smaller items -- jewelry, perhaps? A gift for Lunafreya, no doubt, should they succeed in their mission.

"Go on, then," he tells Noctis, who nods and slips past an older couple who probably have no idea their crown prince had just brushed by. Smiling in spite of himself, Ignis moves on along the central aisle of the market, idly eyeing the contents of each booth as he passes it. If he happens to keep an eye on Noctis as well, following that spike of black hair bobbing through the crowd, he can easily chalk that up to being protective.

* * *

Their stay in Lestallum doesn't last long -- certainly not as long as Ignis, city-born and bred, would have liked. Barely a day later, with rumor of another royal tomb to guide them, they're on the road again. Ignis looks forward to the camping only because the rune-protected havens guarantee them a safe respite for the evening.

Sure enough, when night draws near, they find themselves too far from any sign of civilization to do anything but camp. Fortunately, Gladio had sighted a haven earlier, and in no time they're set up.

As he chops up vegetables for a stew, motion to his side catches Ignis's eye. He glances warily -- but no, it's nothing more than a pack of mesmenir moving through the low trees beyond the campsite. They have an oddly captivating way of loping, the huge curled horns bobbing as their heads move in time, and he watches them for a moment before returning to his work.

Something has changed. He knows the corner of the prep table was bare before, but now a packet of Ebony coffee sits there as if it had appeared by magic. Bemused, he glances around. Gladio sits before the fire, reading; Prompto and Noctis are goofing around near the tents. Noctis has Prompto facedown on the rock, hands behind his back. For a moment, Noctis looks up, his eyes meeting Ignis's. Then he refocuses on Prompto, pretending to cuff him as if taking him into custody.

 _Surely not,_ Ignis tells himself. Still, Ebony in the morning... He finds himself smiling as he finishes his work.

* * *

Ignis swims into consciousness to the sight of a dingy hotel room and three anxious faces peering at him.

"What happened?" he croaks, hoarse and dry-throated. 

By way of response, Prompto lets out a whoop and jumps up from his nearby chair. At the foot of the bed, Gladio sighs and shakes his head, raking a hand over his unkempt hair. To his right, Noctis leans in, suddenly and uncomfortably close: Ignis manages not to jump back as the prince lays a gentle hand over his forehead.

"He's a lot cooler," Noctis says, and Ignis reaches up to peevishly brush Noctis's hand away.

"He's right here," he says, a touch of annoyance in his voice. "Now could someone get me a glass of water and tell me what happened?"

Prompto's already halfway to the bathroom; Noctis sits back, relief in his eyes, while Gladio takes the chair Prompto had been in. "You got poisoned by those basilisks we were fighting. Do you remember? By the lake?"

Ignis shakes his head, eyes narrowing. "The lake," he repeats, as Prompto returns with a glass of water; he pushes himself to sit upright, propped up by the headboard, and sips at the glass.

"It was yesterday," Noctis puts in. His voice is low, his eyes dark. Despite himself, Ignis reaches over to rest a hand on Noctis's shoulder for a moment. "You went down and I didn't notice until after the battle. We got you back here as fast as we could."

That's what Ignis hears in Noctis's voice: guilt. "It's not your fault," Ignis says. "We're all trained to hold our own in battle. If I didn't pay attention--"

"But it _is_ my fault," Noctis says, his voice more distraught now. Ignis catches just a glimpse of Gladio standing, all but dragging Prompto to the door with him. "I got so caught up in showing off, instead of being a leader like I'm supposed to be."

"For goodness' sake, Noct." Ignis takes another long drink of water and then reaches over to set it on the side table. Someone had put his glasses there; he takes them, idly cleaning the lenses with a corner of the blanket before sliding them back on. Noctis's face slides into sharper focus: his eyes a deep blue beneath the long bangs, the corners of his mouth drawn down unhappily. One hand grips a fistful of the bedspread. "This is all a bit dramatic, don't you think? As you can see, I'm quite all right."

That might have been a bit of a lie: Ignis can still feel a slight weakness in his hands, a dullness in his head that makes him want to put his head down and sleep. Even so, he's conscious and coherent, which was apparently more than he's been for the last day or so, and therefore he isn't about to complain.

"You are now," Noctis says. He swallows hard, then stands up, pushing in close all at once. "But I almost lost you, and I can't, I can't--"

Ignis has no chance to move, not with his back to the headboard and Noctis looming over him. The kiss happens before he can even blink, Noctis's mouth hard on his, a clumsy hand cupping the back of his head. Ignis manages a sharp breath in through his nose; Noctis pulls back, blinking at Ignis and then going bright red.

"I'm the stupidest person on Eos," Noctis mutters, starts to straighten up. Before he can, Ignis summons all his courage and grasps Noctis by the wrist. Noctis looks down at the point of contact, then up at Ignis again.

"I don't mind being kissed," Ignis says, with remarkable composure given the circumstance (and firmly ignoring the stern voice in his head reminding him of the utter foolishness of all of this). "But can we talk about it, before you run away and avoid me for the remainder of this trip?"

"Y-you're not mad at me?" Noctis blinks at him, eyes wide and winsome. Ignis has a sudden memory of meeting those eyes across the campsite, right after finding a pleasant surprise on his prep table.

"Noct," he says softly. He gentles his grip on Noct's wrist, covers his hand instead. After a moment, Noct turns his hand to tangle their fingers together.

"I've had a crush on you for so long," Noct says, quiet. "I thought it'd go away when I got older, and then it didn't. And then I thought, well, I'll get married to Lunafreya and it'll all be like it's supposed to be."

"And now it's all gone to shit," Ignis says. Noctis glances up at him, a hint of wry humor in the corner of his smile.

"To put it mildly." After a moment, Noctis draws a leg up under himself, settling more comfortably -- and, Ignis notes, not letting go of his hand. "And now, you -- you and Gladio and Prompto -- you're all I have right now. I need you, I can't. If anything happened to you."

"I'm not going anywhere." Ignis holds up their joined hands in illustration, attempting an amused tone. "See?"

Cheeks flaring with color, Noctis releases Ignis's hand. "You know what I mean," he mutters, looking away again.

Ignis shakes his head. Why he developed feelings for this maddening man, he'd never know. "You could at least ask how I felt about that kiss," he said.

"We don't have to talk about it." From this angle, Ignis can see Noctis's throat work. He has some very specific notions about that tender skin, notions that suddenly seem all too plausible.

"I suppose not," he says instead, finding himself smiling slowly. "But then I wouldn't get to tell you that I'd been wanting it too. For rather longer than I'd care to admit," he added, as Noctis turns toward him once more with mouth open.

"You--you're not mad?" he manages.

"I'll only be mad if you don't do it again," Ignis says, and he can't quite help a laugh when Noctis all but throws himself on the bed, over Ignis, kissing him again, again, again.


End file.
